Cold Strategy

Selina’s POV

The moment Lucas stormed out of the restaurant, the silence he left behind clung to the walls like smoke.

I didn’t chase after him. Why would I? This is the man who broke me like it was his last mission. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even look up.

I simply reached for my wine glass, swirled the remaining red liquid, and took a slow, satisfying sip.

Jonathan shifted in his seat, visibly trying to process what had just happened. He cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

Good.

He knew better than to ask questions. He was here for a purpose—and not the romantic one he thought.

“You okay?” he finally asked.

I turned my eyes to him and gave him a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He gestured toward the now-vacant space where Lucas had stood moments ago. “That guy… Blackwood. He looked like he was ready to kill someone.”

“He’s always looked that way.” My voice was ice.

Jonathan chuckled, unsure. I can tell he's nervous. He didn’t understand the layers of history behind that name. He didn’t need to.

That made him useful. Predictable. Safe.

After dinner, I didn’t retreat into the shadows. I didn’t flee the scene or hide from the cameras flashing outside the restaurant.

No. I walked out on Jonathan’s arm, slow and confident, knowing full well the city’s social media feeds would light up within the hour.

Selina Carter was seen dining with financial consultant Jonathan Ward amid Blackwood rumors.

Let them speculate. Let them spin their stories. Because this wasn’t about headlines.

This was about warfare.

And I had just landed the first real blow. The next day, I was already dressing for another battle. Same city. New arena.

A clean energy summit downtown, hosted by a board I now partially controlled. Invitations were exclusive. Attendance was elite. And of course, Lucas Blackwood was listed as one of the primary panel sponsors.

I planned to attend the moment I saw his name. And I planned to bring Jonathan again.

“You’re sure about this?” Vera asked, watching me slide the gold clasp of my heels into place. “He’s going to be there.”

“Good.” I adjusted the collar of my blazer—sleek, black, tailored to perfection. “Let him choke on it.”

“And Jonathan? Do you think using him like this is smart?”

“I don’t need smart right now,” I said, standing. “I need effective and a mother will do anything to protect their kids.”

Vera didn’t argue. She never did. But I could feel her watching me longer than usual.

I knew what she saw. Not just a woman playing a dangerous game. But one who stopped caring about the fallout.

The summit was held at the Lancaster Tower ballroom—glass, steel, and ivory. A snake pit wrapped in elegance.

I arrived precisely fifteen minutes after the first panel began. Late enough to draw attention, early enough to be unavoidable.

Jonathan stayed close, offering his arm again like a proper gentleman. I accepted it. Not because I needed it. But because Lucas needed to see it. And he did.

The moment I stepped through the main hall’s arched entrance, our eyes locked across the room.

He was standing near the press table, flanked by two of his wolves in custom-tailored suits, the badge of his company shining subtly beneath the lapel.

He looked like hell. Dark suit. Collar open. Jaw clenched.

Eyes on fire.

I smiled.

Then I leaned into Jonathan and whispered something only he could hear.

He smiled back.

Lucas’s gaze narrowed.

We crossed the ballroom slowly, weaving through polished smiles and fake compliments. I knew everyone was watching. But I wasn’t performing for them.

I was performing for him.

Every step, every glance, every soft laugh—it was calculated.

And the moment I passed Lucas and his entourage, I didn’t look at him. I didn’t pause.

I just brushed my hand down Jonathan’s sleeve. Possession.

The gala moved into the next phase—drinks, socializing, and carefully staged press photos. And I made sure Lucas had a clear view of me the entire time.

Jonathan leaned against the balcony railing beside me, sipping his champagne. “You’ve got a lot of eyes on you tonight.”

“Good. That means it’s working.”

He arched a brow. “What’s working?”

I turned toward him. “Making someone remember what they lost.”

Jonathan stared at me for a beat. Then he nodded slowly. “That guy from the restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“He hurt you?”

“Worse.” I took another sip. “He taught me how to hurt back.”

I spotted Lucas before he moved. He hadn’t looked away from me all evening, but he hadn’t approached either.

That was new. He was holding back. And I knew why.

He was scared. Not of me. Of himself.

The bond between us, frayed as it was, still hummed faintly beneath my skin.

But now? It felt unstable.

Lucas wasn’t just angry. He was doubting. And I could feel it. So I made my move.

I turned toward Jonathan slowly. Let the crowd fade. Let the pressure between Lucas and me stretch like a wire about to snap.

Then I reached up. Brushed a curl from Jonathan’s brow and kissed him, slow and calm. Precise.

A kiss that said, You’re not welcome here anymore, Lucas.

And I felt it when the bond screamed. Not with connection, but with pain.

I didn’t look toward Lucas. I didn’t have to.

I heard the growl ripple across the room, and then someone gasped. And I knew, in that moment, he had to leave. Because if he didn’t, he was going to lose control. Again.

I turned to the skyline. Let the city lights glow across my skin.

Jonathan looked stunned, flattered, maybe even touched. But I wasn’t thinking about him.

I was thinking about the boy asleep in my penthouse. The one who had Lucas’s eyes and didn’t even know what kind of legacy pulsed through his veins.

He would know one day. But not yet.

Not while Lucas was still this volatile. This raw.

And not until I had completely broken the man who once shattered me.

Because I meant what I told myself five years ago as I walked away from that packhouse, blood still fresh in my mouth.

I would never beg again. I would never look back.

And if Lucas Blackwood ever crawled toward me on his knees? I’d crush him with the same heel he tried to bury me under.